


Did You Hear

by Beccafiend



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:09:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2251923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beccafiend/pseuds/Beccafiend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What a laughable farce - as if they were a normal, loving couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did You Hear

I thought they were odd from the start, the only father figures who ever showed up to the PTA meetings. One of them was a demon, complete with the pointed ears and unusual eye color. He didn’t even wear limiters like many demons still did, leaving his claws longer than most women keep their nails. The other demon mothers said that he was the son of royalty, the only heir of the great demon king. Even among the humans, it was common knowledge that he was all but disowned by his father now, though - he’d probably been cut off from funds, and it was rumored that the title he held as prince was only maintained by the public, and no longer held any legal legitimacy. The girl he took care of was his half-sister, the little girl’s mother a consort of the demon king. The demon boy was barely out of high school himself, and he was trying to raise the child - or so I’d been told. He was certainly young, much younger than any of us. He obviously had yet to hit his final growth spurt.

 

The other one, no one really knew as much about him. He was in his twenties, and I heard he was a former Buddhist monk, not that you would know with how he acted.  I’d heard he still practiced, but was kicked out of the monastery for having a child. The son never talked about his mother. Some said she was a deadbeat, most of the others said she was just dead. I wouldn't be surprised if she simply left him - he was a rude man, always insulting us. With his golden blonde hair and intense, sloping eyes, he almost would have been attractive, if he hadn’t been so unsociable. The one thing that we did know for certain was that he worked at the local paper - he was best known for the advice column, where his frank answers were a major selling point. I’d always thought that it was a gimmick until I actually met the man. I think he thought he was better, smarter, but he still had his son in public school like the rest of us.

 

I remember seeing them together after the meetings, chatting under the metal awning in front of the school, their children running about them on the concrete. They were together an awful lot. I could see the looks they shared - the demon boy was always pining, but that “monk” clearly had far less innocent intentions. What kind of man could give such a longing look to a child? It was disgusting, really. The demon boy never seemed to see the looks the monk gave him - somehow oblivious to those predatory stares, most of the time. Oh, but when he did notice, he seemed so flustered by it all, so young and desperate for any kind of “positive” attention. A shame, really - he was bound to be burned by his own naïveté.

 

_Have you heard? The monk and the boy were spotted the other day at the fair - they were on a_ date _. That monk even won a huge prize at the shooting booth for him. the kids were with them, I hear, but someone caught them kissing. Around the children, no less._

 

They often arrived at the meetings early, talking in low voices as they took their seats in the cold, empty cafeteria where we held our after school meetings. Once, I managed to catch a little of what they were saying - an exchange that reminded me of my younger days.

 

“It would be easier on both of us if I just got a full-time job,” the demon boy was saying, “I can’t keep relying on you to take care of me and my sister—“

 

“Don’t be stupid. It sounds good now, but in the long run you’ll be shit out of luck. You don’t get anything with a high school diploma these days, except maybe minimum wage and no benefits. You have the scholarship here. They’re practically paying you to go. Don’t waste it.”

 

“But you—“

 

“I’m not paying more than I already was to live in that apartment alone. I might have to rework the grocery budget, but we’ll be fine. Focus on your school. I’ll take care of it.”

 

The demon boy clearly bought into the pervert’s lie, too - I could see it plainly in the look of gratitude he had. My husband gave me that line, too, when I dropped out of college to move in with him. “I’ll take care of it.” But men never keep their promises - they always fall in love with their work over family. Poor boy was going to learn that the hard way.

 

_Did you hear that they live together? The boy doesn't even have a job. That pervert, he’s making the boy dependent on him. I hear he's even taken the girl to doctor's appointments for the boy. He's setting the boy in a trap, mark my words._

 

We wanted to believe the demon boy was normal, if not perhaps young and stupid, until he came to the Halloween event in a skirt. Oh, and not just any skirt - it was a short, frilly thing, barely leaving anything to the imagination. All that _“monk”_ could focus on was his legs - it wasn’t hard to imagine where his thoughts were going.

 

The worst part about it was that I saw some of the other husbands looking, too. Oh, they thought they were covert about it, but it was obvious - lecherous, disgusting creatures. My own husband was among them - I refused to talk to him for a week after that. But sometimes I still catch the men looking, when the demon boy wears those revealing skirts unfit for anything other than a whore house. The slut probably loves all the attention, too.

 

It disgusted me, really. Say what you want about that, but I couldn’t understand how a man, even one as young as he, could wear such a thing and still call himself a man. Was it not bad enough that they were demon and human? A boy barely out of high school and a young man who should have known much better? In this day and age, homosexual relationships are far more normal, and I can’t say it bothered me as much - I wouldn’t want to date either of them anyway, and no woman should have to put up with the likes of them. But they were still a disgusting pair. A slut and a pervert. Perfect for each other, but a disgrace to all who allowed it.

 

If we could have, we would have banned them from coming. From ever speaking and contradicting everything we said. But we don’t have that kind of authority, and the principal wouldn’t hear of it when we brought it up. Perhaps because she was a demon herself, she was fond of them - though without legal power, the demon boy was still a prince, greatly admired by his kind. She must have believed that her prince truly loved the monk, making him worthy of her respect. Unfortunate, really, that she couldn’t see the danger the demon boy was in like the rest of us could.

 

_Did you hear that the principal is seeing a human? It looks pretty serious - I’ve heard her talking about marriage. I know she’s always wanted kids - she’ll end up with half-breed children. Those poor kids will be stigmatized for life. How selfish of her._

 

One meeting, the monk showed up late, a bouquet of flowers in tow. But not just any flowers - they were orchids, as purple as the demon boy’s eyes. The pervert had this look about him, a _smile_ on his face - the only one I’d ever seen - when he handed them over.

 

“Are these— Are you really—?” The demon boy acted so flustered, like this was some sort of big surprise to him. “But these are so expensive.”

 

“One bouquet is not going to bankrupt me.”

 

I almost thought the demon boy was going to cry, but he didn’t. What a laughable farce - as if they were a normal, loving couple. My husband was a good man, and he didn’t buy me such expensive flowers at random. We were _responsible_ adults, thank you very much. A ten dollar bouquet of roses on the appropriate holidays was the right way to do things, if you ask me. Much more affordable, and much more modest. Married adults have no need for such showy displays of affection, anyway.

 

_Did you know that the monk is good friends with the demon teacher? Yeah, the one with the limiters. He tutors the man’s son after school, apparently. It’s like that pervert’s got only ties with demons._

 

That winter, a recently divorced single mother moved to town, her son transferring in at the start of the new semester. Everyone was all in a tizzy when she had time to come to a meeting - poor woman had so much to face.

 

“I’m so sorry, dear. At least the child is better off with you.”

 

“Men just don’t understand how to care for children, or how hard it is. A mother is the only one who can really care for the child properly.”

 

“Children need a nurturing mother who will sacrifice for them.”

 

“Single mothers must go through so much.”

 

“Men have it easy, they have all the rights already.”

 

“All men are good for is child support.”

 

“Who ever heard of a single father, anyway?”

 

“They’d end up married to their work, and the child would be alone.”

 

“Men can’t be trusted to raise children.”

 

“Do you _actually_ believe the bullshit you’re spouting?” The monk interjected with a sneer. “Funny thing, single fathers sure as hell don’t get the benefits a woman does. I didn’t get maternity leave when my son was a newborn and no one was around to take care of him but me. No one cares about the widower husband. No one cares about a teen dad. But those ‘caring mothers’ who’d sooner drown their kid than keep them, they sure have it hard. They get plenty of goddamn sympathy.”

 

The monk looked ready to go on, but the demon boy stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. Oh, he turned, and I almost thought he would snap at him, too. Something passed between them - I didn’t catch what - and he almost looked like he would hit the boy out of frustration, hands moving in violent gestures as he hissed at the boy in a low voice. He seemed to hold himself back, shooting us a look of utter disgust as the boy said something to him. Behind him the boy’s expression was kept neutral, and they left without saying anything else.

 

That temper was a dangerous thing without any kind of outlet, I thought.

 

_Did you know the monk owns a gun? I’ve heard he threatens his friends with it regularly. Honestly, how he was ever a monk is beyond me. They must let anyone in these days._

 

The monk’s son was a sociable boy, and quite unlike his father - a small blessing, if you ask me. He got along well with my own sons, and they were part of the same soccer team, so I never could find a good enough reason to deny my boys when they invited him over. In any case, I thought he ought to be out of that house with that _man_ for a while.

 

I caught him alone once after practice, while my son was changing in his room, happily starting on the snacks I’d provided for them. The boy ate quite a lot for one so young.

 

“Have there been any problems at your house lately, my dear?”

 

“House problems? You mean like how the toilet clogged last weekend?” The boy seemed so serious when he looked up at me, eyes wide and innocent. “But that got fixed.”

 

“No, sweetie. I mean your father. How has he been?”

 

“Dad? He’s fine.”

 

“Are you sure, dear? He’s just seemed a little upset in the meetings, I just want to make sure everything’s alright.”

 

The boy paused for a moment, as if considering the question, before shaking his head and beaming brightly at me.

 

“No, dad’s definitely happy.”

 

“Are you _really_ sure?”

 

“Yup, happiest he’s ever been. Probably cause he’s in love. Course I don’t much about love, but that’s what my uncle says. I just know he cares a lot, and that’s a big thing for dad.”

 

“I see…”

 

So he’d brainwashed his poor son, too.

 

_Did you hear the boy called it love? Poor dear is too young to understand. I don't even think the pervert is capable of it._

 

One day the demon boy came to the meeting with a slight limp, fidgeting on the table’s attached bench like he couldn’t quite get comfortable. Dark, ugly bruises highlighted by the fluorescents could be seen on his arms and thighs, and even some on his neck. When he stretched, his shirt rode up just enough for me to catch a glimpse of one on his hip. His partner looked _smug_ about it, too. As if he was responsible, and _proud_. He was in the best mood any of us had ever seen him in - the insults were minimal, even, his temper sated. I realized he’d found his perfect outlet. And yet the demon boy looked at him so _lovingly_.

 

_Did you see the way the demon boy winced when he sat down at the meeting today? And those ugly bruises. He doesn’t flinch when the man touches him anymore, though. I wonder why._

 

We were all concerned for him - he was so young, and certainly being taken advantage of. Someone had to talk to him - so after one meeting, I pulled him aside in front of the school, hiding behind a brick support beam away from his ever-present partner.

 

“Honey. That man, he’s not putting you _up_ to anything, is he? He hasn’t made you feel unsafe, has he?”

 

“Huh? What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“We’re just concerned that you might be having problems, dear. With your relationship, I mean.”

 

“Everyone has problems, but I don’t see why any of _you_ are concerned.”

 

To his credit, he did a good job of acting confused, like nothing was wrong - one could almost believe him. But I didn’t. The avoidance of the question was surely a cry for help. The boy needed to be saved.

 

_Did you hear they got kicked out of the theater the other day? They were cited for disturbing the other people in the theater.I bet it was all the pervert's idea._

 

One of the mothers who lived in the same apartment complex, just down the hall, said she turned in an anonymous tip to the abuse prevention hotline. She said there was always so much yelling and thumping coming from the apartment, and she was concerned. They paid a house visit on her request, but when they called her back after, they insisted there was no problem, and told her next time she “had a noise complaint about the DDR games” to talk to them herself.

 

I suspect they found out, and had enough time to hide the evidence. After all, they’d been trying to hide it from us this whole time. They acted normal at the meetings, as if they were actually _in love_. I didn’t believe it for a minute - it was obvious there was brainwashing going on here, or perhaps fear. The poor boy was misguided, surely. Slut or not, he didn’t deserve to be at the hands of a pervert.

 

_Did you hear? They haven’t been around town lately. I only see them in the grocery store every now and then. They look pretty worn down. I bet you it’s starting to fall apart already._

 

For a while after the incident, they stopped showing up to the meetings entirely. In fact, they were rarely seen at all, often leaving the children waiting in front of the school much longer than usual, though they had always been the first to get there. The two children looked so forlorn in front of the aged brick building, the crowd of children thinning around them quickly. Concerned, I approached the two about it one afternoon, addressing the little demon girl first.

 

“Where is your brother?”

 

“At court.” The girl was unusually somber in her reply, biting her lip in worry. Beside her, the monk’s son had a similar expression - he was much quieter than I’d ever seen him. The poor dears.

 

“Court?”

 

“Yeah. He said they want to give me back to my mother.”

 

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

 

“Mother doesn’t like me much. And she’s not really nice. I like being with my big brother and papa better. But they said he’s not supposed to have me cause mother’s still alive. He wasn’t a grownup when mother left, and they say that’s bad.” The girl hunched over, looking down at the ground. “I don’t want them to take me away.”

 

The boy reached out then, taking her hand in his, moving closer to her as if to comfort her. They met each other’s gazes, something passing between them wordlessly. I’d never seen my children act like that with their siblings before - though they were close in age, they didn’t get along very well. Boys and girls are such different creatures, after all.

 

“But dear, doesn’t this mean your mother wants you back?” I prodded, “certainly she must care for you, if she’s been looking for you.”

 

The girl shook her head, looking up at me again. “They only found out cause the police came in the other day. They looked around and wanted all kinds of papers when they saw us. Brother didn’t have mine.”

 

I meant to ask more, but at that moment, their ride arrived - one of the men I’d seen with them on occasion out and around town. A friend of the monk’s, one of the more popular bartenders in town for his smooth talking ways, despite his halfling blood. The children left me with a hasty goodbye, immediately scooped up by the man and swung about like he was some sort of loved uncle. Of course the children being raised by a demon and a human would love the half-breed.

 

_Did you hear the girl's mother is involved again? Maybe she'll finally end up in a stable home._

 

They finally came back months later, matching gold bands around their fingers. The demon boy looked so _happy_ , as if this blasphemy were a thing to be celebrated. I suppose for him, it was - now he had a steady income, without having done any work.

 

Even the monk was calmer than usual, and I could a half-smile on his face every now and then when he thought no one saw him glancing at the demon boy and his “family.” I found it hard to believe he was _happy_ about the whole thing - likely he was reveling in the fact that he now had a permanent outlet for that temper of his.

 

_Did you see the wedding rings? I heard that they did it so that they could adopt the girl. Those poor children._

 

After the meetings, the women would stay and talk for a while, the kids playing on the chipped linoleum behind us. In the wake of their return, the pervert and the demon boy were the hot topic again. We all worried for that boy - a marriage was a much harder thing to break off, and the monk had joint custody of his sister. There would be no way for him to escape now.

 

“It’s such a shame that investigation all those months ago was a bust.”

 

“Honestly. That monk’s just going to go right back to abusing them once things have settled, I’m sure.”

 

“That poor boy—“

 

“Excuse you?” No one had heard the demon boy approach, standing next to the nearest bench with a forgotten jacket in hand. His expression was an odd mixture of  disbelief and amusement, of all things. “Are you actually trying to imply that _he_ could abuse _me_?”

 

“Well, you see—“

           

He interrupted us with a laugh, giving us a look as if we were, perhaps, the dumbest creatures he’d ever seen.

           

“I would _love_ to hear more about that investigation you mentioned - I take it one of you is behind the police barging in during game night, and demanding my sister’s papers.”

           

No one said anything, alarmed by the boy’s reaction. He searched us for a moment, before shrugging, amusement fading into disinterest.

           

“Well, I suppose I also have you all to thank indirectly for my marriage. I’m sure you’ll be glad to know we’re all very happy.” He sneered, lips curling up just enough to flash sharp fangs. “However, I would suggest you stay out of our business from now on. You know nothing about us.”

           

He turned, not bothering to wait for a response before he walked off to where the monk and children were waiting at the cafeteria door.

 

_Did you hear what that demon boy said? That gold-digging harlot and that pedophile creep will bring this school down, mark my words._

**Author's Note:**

> Because who doesn't love single father AUs. And judgmental PTA ladies. I wrote this for class and I'm still not sorry. A bit of an experiment in perspective and point of view that I'm kinda in love with.


End file.
